


'Tis The Season!

by jco



Category: South Park
Genre: Christmas, First Kiss, Halloween, Hanukkah, Holidays, M/M, Mutual Pining, Ugly Holiday Sweaters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 13:36:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17142725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jco/pseuds/jco
Summary: Kyle hates Christmas.





	'Tis The Season!

**Author's Note:**

> Heya! Just wanted to say English isn't my first language, and also, I love Stankyle. Mah boys.

Every year, the morning after Halloween, Kyle woke up the same way. His eyes snap open, immediately followed by a sigh, then his eyes close again. A voice inside his head, same voice every year, tries to convince him to stay in bed. Kyle refuses, though, always wary of his grades and attendance, and with a heavy, tired heart, he forces himself to get up from the bed.

The walk to school is always slow that day. To top the fact that he doesn’t want to see anyone today, he’s also spoiled, used to having Stan drive him to school every day. Sadly, not wanting to see anyone also includes not wanting to see _Stan_ , which Stan is well aware of.

As soon as he steps foot in the school parking lot, the same voice comes back. Now, the voice is pleading, warning Kyle of what’s to come as soon as he sees Butters, or Clyde, or god forbid Eric Cartman.

He decides now, as he’s stepping inside the school building, is a good time to put on his sunglasses, and blast Highway To Hell in his headphones in a poor attempt to ignore everyone.

As soon as he slams his locker shut, though, a figure pops up to his right. And with ACDC screaming in his ears, he can still hear Kenny’s jolly “Merry Christmas, Kyle!”.

“Kenny,” Kyle starts, slowly, “It’s November 1st,” he reminds him, turns around and walks away, eager to leave the conversation.

“Why, you’re correct, my dear Kyle!” Kenny cheerfully says, his arm now thrown on Kyle’s shoulders, “Which means Christmas season officially started!”

“Kenny,” a third voice rises behind them, and thank god, Kenny stops. “Not today, leave him alone.”

Thank god for Stan.

Only 28 days ‘till Thanksgiving.

-

Thanksgiving actually wasn’t so bad. He was used to his Mom’s obsessive cooking, and Ike seemed to be in a good mood lately. Gerald remained the same, which was not good nor bad.

Plus, he got a day off from school, which meant hanging out in Stan’s room, playing Overwatch all day.

“Sick, dude,” Stan made a disgusted face, “Don’t pick Genji.”

Kyle huffed, “Who am I gonna pick? Tracer?”

“I’m already Tracer!”

“I’m not gonna pick Tracer!” Kyle said, maybe a bit too loud.

For a good while, Stan and Kyle played in silence, simply enjoying each other’s company. Sometimes Kyle would get overwhelmed, the feeling of their thighs touching each other and their elbows bumping a bit too much for him, a soft blush mirroring the one on Stan’s face. Not that he actually ever dared to look at Stan when he was feeling like this. 

He tried to shake that feeling off, but it was difficult, the feeling of Stan’s gaze burning into his skin every time the game loaded. When the game was taking too long, he indulged himself in thoughts about Stan’s shoulder, right next to him, perfect for Kyle to lean his head on it as they played, and maybe Stan’s arm would slip around his waist, and they’d be so close, even closer than they are right now, and god, is his face red? Is now really a good time to think about Stan's lips?

His phone vibrated in his pocket, waking him up from his thoughts, and he pulled it out and groaned upon seeing what’s on the screen.

Stan threw a quick look at Kyle and raised his brow. “What is it?”

Kyle tucked his phone back in his pocket, “My mom just texted me we’re hosting her family for the first day of Hanukkah,” he said, “God, I can’t stand her sisters. They’re such…”

“Muff cabbages?” Stan suggested, smirking.

Kyle threw a pillow at him. “Oh, shut it.” 

Stan looked at Kyle from the corner of his eye and smiled, catching the wide grin on Kyle’s face; there despite Stan’s bad joke. It warmed his heart.

Thanksgiving was actually pretty good.

-

Hanukkah, on the other hand, was a mess.

Two nights before Hanukkah, Kyle fell ill. It wasn’t anything serious at first, just his throat itching a little, but on the first day of Hanukkah, Kyle woke up from his own coughs.

He grabbed his phone and quickly texted Stan he’s sick and won’t show up to school today, followed by a rather quick reply of two crying emojis from his best friend.

_This is the last thing he needs_ , he thought when he sat on his bed, looking at the wall. His Mom has been running all over the kitchen these past few days, getting food and the house ready for tonight, all of the family coming over. 

God, he’s going to have to host tonight, as well. He’s gonna have to smile to his annoying cousins and hug his aunts who’ll pinch his cheeks and ask him about a girlfriend. He will probably also have to look after Randy Marsh because his mom bought some good-quality alcohol for the event; and wherever there’s alcohol, there’s Randy Marsh.

The day itself passed rather quickly, actually, his mother only asking help with very few things and trying to be considerate of Kyle, seeing how pale he looks and preferring to leave him to rest. “I need you to put on a big smile tonight, Bubbeh,” she reminded him, “I need tonight to be perfect.”

By 3 or 4PM, Kyle fell asleep, already exhausted. When he woke up, his head was spinning. He could hear the noise coming from downstairs, and he appreciated not being woken up, but now he has to face all the guests at once. 

As soon as he got up, though he started shaking. He put a hoodie on, and with his eyes glued to his feet, trying to avoid everyone, he headed straight to his Mom.

He thanked God when he found her in the kitchen without some annoying relative next to her, and before he even said anything, she dropped whatever she was holding into the sink, the back of her hand on his forehead. 

“Bubbeh, you’re burning.” she looked around as if trying to find a way out. “I need to take you to the ER. But, oh honey, I can’t leave the house. And Dad can’t take you either, he’s,” she glanced to Gerald’s direction, seeing him on his 4th or 5th beer, his cheeks red and his laugh loud, “Oh…” she shook her head. “Oh! Can you ask Stan?”

For the first time tonight, Kyle opened his mouth, letting out a week “Yeah” and headed back upstairs, texting Stan. 

Stan replied to Kyle’s texts with a frowning emoji, and a promise he’d be outside Kyle’s house in 10 minutes. He was there in 8.

Later that night, when Kyle thanked Stan for taking him, both of them sitting in the ER waiting room, Stan hushed Kyle and grabbed his hand, “Always, dude,” he assured him, “Whenever you need me.”

Kyle was looking a little bit better on the second day of Hanukkah.

-

If there’s anything Kyle hated more than the morning after Halloween, it was Clyde’s annual Christmas Eve Eve party

Every year, Stan convinced Kyle to go. Every year, Clyde would open the door, his breath already reeks of alcohol (though tonight his eyes seemed a bit red as well), and thanked them for coming, not to be seen for the rest of the night.

Every year, Stan would drink, allowing himself to lose control for one night in the year. Every year, Kyle would, at some point of the night, would get a very fatherly kiss on his forehead from Stan, before he’s off to do other things with Craig.

Kyle swears the only time he sees Stan and Craig get along, it’s during Clyde’s Christmas Eve Eve party. 

Tonight, though, Stan wasn’t drinking. When Kyle asked why, on the way to Clyde’s house, Stan explained it’s because Kyle’s not drinking either.

Kyle chuckled, “Dude, I never drink more than like, a beer anyways. Most years I don’t drink at all.”

“But most years, you can _choose to, if you'd like,'” Stan insisted, reminding him, “Tonight, you can’t, thanks to your antibiotics. Thus, Stanley shall not drink as well. Sir Stanley shall accompany his king on his booze-less journey.”_

__

__

Kyle rolled his eyes, embarrassed, “Dude, you gotta stop with the Sir Stanley talk.”

Stan, in response, grabbed Kyle’s wrist and kissed the back of Kyle’s hand. “Apologizes, my king.”

Kyle stood there, stunned. He and Stan got a bit more touchy than usual lately, the feeling something will happen soon tossing in his guts constantly. This, though, was the flirtiest Stan’s ever been.

Thankfully, a phone call from Kenny, trying to reach Stan, cut the tension between them, started as soon as Stan’s eyes left Kyle’s hand and met his eyes. 

“Ah, hey Ken,” Stan greeted. “Yeah, we’re on the way there. In uh, 3 minutes, I’d say? Oh, no, I’m not gonna.” Stan went silent for a long time, and when Kyle glanced at him, he caught Stan’s eyes on him, escaping the look, “Shut up Kenny,” he hissed, “We’re here. See you.”

After their usual greet from Clyde, they saw Kenny, obviously already a bit buzzed. He seemed to be jolly-er than usual, Kyle noted, which annoyed him even more.

When he left, Stan shook his head. “That sweater is so ugly,” he complained.

“Isn’t that the point?” Kyle asked, tilting his head, “ _Ugly_ Christmas sweater?” 

“Your sweater looks nice on you,” Stan said, and didn’t look back at Kyle’s stunned look when his head snapped at him.

“Uh, thanks. It’s the only --”

“--Ugly Hanukkah sweater you ever found. I know, Kyle. I still think it looks good on you,” Stan chuckled, blush creeping on his cheeks.

Kyle was tempted to ask Stan if he’s drunk after all, but he knew he wasn’t, knew Stan was just feeling brave. His stomach turned, and he was about to reply when Craig came into view.

“Sober tonight, Marsh?” he slurred, his eyes skipping between Kyle and Stan.

“Yeah,” Stan confirmed, maybe a little proud, “Kyle’s not drinking, so I’m not either.”

Craig chuckled and shook his head, “Well, you two have fun tonight,” he smirked, “And Marsh,” he pushed his pointed finger on Stan’s chest, “Don’t be dumb tonight,” he ordered, then left.

“I won’t!” Stan called out, but either Craig ignored him or didn’t hear.

For a second, Kyle wasn’t sure what to do. Usually, by now, he’d be stuck in some room, switching between the same 3 apps the entire night, watching the party through Instagram stories rather than seeing it himself.

Then, Stan sighed. Kyle wanted to ask what is it, but then Stan grabbed his wrist, and started heading towards the stairs, pulling Kyle with him.

“Broflovski!” someone called behind him, and he turned around, seeing Token, pointing to something above them when they stood in the doorway.

Kyle didn’t need to glance up to see what was above them, but Stan did, and he let out an “oh, please,” before pulling Kyle once again and taking him upstairs, to Clyde’s room. “I don’t need a mistletoe to kiss you,” Stan mumbled.

Kyle wanted to reply, but he didn’t get to, because Stan pushed him towards the open window, “There’s a ladder to your left. Grab it and climb up, it leads to the roof.”

Kyle was hesitant but did as he was ordered, and Stan followed.

They sat on the roof for a while, not saying anything, both of them sucked in the noises downstairs.

“This is where Craig and I go up to every year,” Stan started, “This is the only night he agrees to talk to me, blaming it on Christmas and its miracles, though I know it’s just the booze.” 

Kyle rolled his eyes, “He’s really something, that Craig. What do you two talk about anyway?”

Stan shrugged. “This, that. You, a lot.”

“Me?”

“Yeah,” Stan said and grabbed Kyle’s hands with both his hands, saying nothing for a few seconds.

Kyle glanced down then back at Stan, his heart beating in his ears, “Stan --”

“You know I love you, don’t you?” Stan started, and Kyle was about to reply, but Stan shook his head, sitting closer to him, “No, wait, let me finish. Whenever we get like this, when I sit close to you and I touch you even a bit, I say to myself - ‘Stan, you idiot, just tell him you love him’. But then I tell myself you know. You do, don’t you? You would’ve told me to stop so long ago if you didn’t,” Stan didn’t wait for a reply, and continued, “You know when I realized I love you? When we were like, twelve, and I told you something really dumb, and you laughed so hard milk came out of your nose.”

“You threw up,” Kyle added.

“Yeah,” Stan admitted.

“I thought you thought I’m gross,”

Stan leaned his forehead against Kyle’s, “God, no, never. I,” his breath shuttered, “I love you so much, dude. I hate this time of the year, because you always get so sad, so lonely, and I don’t know what to do. I wish I could make you celebrate Christmas, I wish you’d stop being so jealous of everyone just for celebrating this stupid holiday. And then I thought about us, getting married or some gay shit, celebrating both Hanukkah and Christmas, and I’d be able to buy you all the ugly sweaters you’d ever want, and --” Stan broke, tears coming out of his eyes.

“Dude,” Kyle said, very softly.

“Whenever you smile,” Stan started, quietly, his eyes closed and face wet, forehead still leaning against Kyle’s, “My heart, like, explodes, dude. You’re like, the prettiest person I ever met. Is that weird? Calling you pretty? Is that too gay?”

Kyle let out a soft laugh, “Yeah, dude. It totally is.”

Stan bit his bottom lip and smiled. “I don’t care,” he opened his eyes and glanced at Kyle, looking a bit cross-eyed. “I love you, dude.”

Kyle smiled. “I lo -”

He started but never finished. Not that night, at least, because Stan cut him off with an overdue kiss to his lips, both of them trembling and happy. They broke the kiss but dived in again, this time kissing deeper, Stan’s hand in Kyle’s hair and Kyle’s fingers wiping Stan’s almost-dried tears.

They sat there for a few minutes, kissing and stopping every time for a second or two just to breathe, then locking their lips again and again, both of them dizzy. Eventually, they’ll have to go back inside and continue on Clyde Donovan’s dirty bed, but Kyle didn’t mind, will never mind, because everything seems _so right_.

And when Craig finds them, later, hands in hair and under their sweaters, he closes the door, leaving them to their moment and going downstairs to his boyfriend.

Kyle hates Christmas. But with Stan in his arms, it seems a little bit better.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! So, here's the deal. Before publishing works, I usually practice writing every character surrounding my main ship. I did it for everyone who talks in this fic besides Sheila, and only because I didn't get to that. I really wanted to post something for Style Week and didn't get to, so I hope this fic is enough!  
> I'm not sure if anyone is interested, but I'm considering posting my practices because 70% of them have Style anyways, and some people might like some extra Gay.  
> If you feel like there's something I should tag, please let me know, I don't like spamming my tags.  
> Also, a gentle reminder that English isn't my first language, followed by an official apology to any spelling or grammar errors any of you came across while reading. Sorry!  
> I'd love to hear your thoughts!  
> JCO


End file.
